Only A Kiss
by Telarana
Summary: DH Spoilers. R/H. Oneshot. The relationship between Harry and Ron over the course of the Deathly Hallows and a bit beyond. How will it change their friendship? And what will it mean for another?


Well, this is a Ron/Harry oneshot, even though it does contain many many scenes, almost like a small chapter fic, just posted in one part. My first R/H fic, and a rather unavoidable one from some scenes in DH.

I included one scene from DH in here, adapted and edited. Hope that you enjoy reading this! R&R is always appreciated.

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**Disclaimer**: All of the characters and the world in this fic belongs to JK Rowling. And the first scene of this fic does as well, though I take credit for all of the others. So no stealing. ;-)

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**Only A Kiss**

As his eyes fluttered open, the moisture that had collected on already-frozen eyelids in the bitter air, he found his chest pressed against the hard and cold ground, and his nose buried in the frozen dirt beneath him. Neither of which helped his currently burning lungs.

Harry flipped over and grabbed his neck by instinct, still feeling the impression of the cursed locket that had almost murdered him. The locket that for some reason was no longer there.

"…bloody mad?"

Changing his focus to the person whose words he hadn't been paying attention to until then, whose coughing and sputtering had been simply part of the background, his mouth fell open. A tall and lanky seventeen year old, with a half angry half annoyed expression on his face was standing in front of him. Or rather, standing on top of him, since Harry was more or less still on the ground.

Caught between remaining there gaping at the boy and wanting to rush up and tackle him in a hug, Harry swallowed. He avoided looking into Ron's eyes, his feelings completely haphazard. There was awkwardness in the air, a tension caused by the bad departure that had stuck in both of their minds. But there was also a strong feeling of need, of the spot in his soul where his best friend had previously been being lost and dead. And the warm emotions at Ron's return were there as well; the absolute happiness that filled him was hard to contain.

It was these thoughts that made Harry fumble longer than he really should have while throwing on his clothes, wanting to protect himself from the discomfort as well as keep the pretence that Ron had really come back to him in his head for as long as possible, if it turned out that it were only an illusion after all. Harry's head emerged from the final sweater that he had pulled over his head and he looked at the redheaded boy. The latter refused to meet his eyes, staring down at the ground in front of him.

The inevitable question of why Ron was there tumbled out of Harry's lips and the reply, while their eyes still did not meet, was a stumbling and sheepish apology, followed by asking if he would take him back.

Harry blinked and as if there had been no barrier between the two boys in the first place, he crossed over to his best friend. Without any conscious thought, he caught him in half an embrace and half an unprecedented kiss.

The two boys stood there, in their damp and dripping clothes, arms tangled clumsily around each other, as if only there because they happened to be. They were shivering. Godric's sword had dropped from Ron's grip long ago, when he had been so shocked by the action that he could do nothing but let it happen. Neither of them wanted to stop the kiss, though not because of enjoyment of the kiss itself, simply because they didn't want to face each other when they did stop.

After what seemed like eons of holding their breath, they finally pulled away from each other at the same time, Ron's ears beet red and Harry's face flushed. Then they turned away from each other and clutched their panting chests, trying not to think of what had just happened.

After several endless moments, the silence of the forest was broken by Harry Potter's voice.

"We should destroy the Horcrux."

Following his dull voice came an equally strained one, almost sounding disembodied from the person to whom it belonged.

"Right."

"I think you should do it." Harry gave a brief glance to the sword at Ron's feet, having no desire to cross over and pick it up himself; it was near Ron, the very person that he wished he could avoid at the moment.

"Right."

After forced slow and deliberate movement, like an old man rising out of a chair after sitting in it for some time, Ron crossed over to a nearby rock. He placed the locket on the stone and it dangled like a rosary from his hand for a brief moment as he did so. He could feel Harry's presence behind him and he raised the sword without hesitation, wanting to simply get away from this place entirely.

There were no words between them, both knowing what had to occur, and Ron couldn't help but shiver as he heard the strange hissing come out of his best friend's mouth. A mouth that had just kissed him.

_Click._

A blue eye stared out at him. He raised his sword, preparing to strike—and then faltered as the Horcrux's battle for survival began.

* * * * * * * *

Destroying the Horcrux had distracted both of them sufficiently and they walked back to the current hiding place of Hermione, determined to forget about what had happened in the forest between them entirely.

It was more than easy enough, what with Harry having to console Ron that he and Hermione were not and never would be interested in one another, congratulating him on finishing off the Horcrux and rescuing him from the lake, and trying to fend off Hermione's bad mood at Ron's return.

* * * * * * * *

Harry turned his head that night, attempting to be silent, though the fact was that the others were fast asleep around him. He stared at Ron's sleeping face, mentally tracing his wild red hair, scattered freckles, and warm lips that he had savored earlier. He tried to tell himself that he was just as shocked by the kiss as Ron had been, but he knew it wasn't true. On some level he had been growing more and more attracted to Ron throughout the years. It only came as a shock to the part of him that had denied it.

_You're with Ginny!_ A part of him argued.

_Not anymore_, said another.

_You still love her!_

_Or was she only a replacement for him, the person that you couldn't have?_

The other part of him was silent, though whether because it couldn't think of an answer or whether it had given up for another day, Harry didn't know. And he wasn't entirely sure if he wanted to find out, either.

* * * * * * * *

The relationship between Ron and Hermione didn't exactly stable out over the course of that night, and Harry had to admit that he was happy about it. Part of him, a selfish jealous part, wanted Ron all to himself.

"What do you think this looks like mate?"

A mushroom was held up to his face. It was during one of their food hunting excursions, looking for mushrooms, berries, nuts, roots and basically anything edible. Harry looked at it for a second.

"A grim."

The laugh that came out of Ron was priceless.

* * * * * * * *

There were days when sometimes magic just wasn't clean enough. And for those days, there came the trouble of finding a place to bathe. A place where you didn't have to spend the night, where you didn't have to pay for its services, and where the water wasn't freezing cold or steaming hot.

It was on one of these days that Ron and Harry found themselves walking to a pond, magically purified, warmed and ready to use, since not everything (such as purity) was available naturally of course.

"And don't stay in there long. We have to be on our way soon!" said Hermione as she brushed past them, her newly washed hair bouncing happily behind her.

"Oh right, like she wasn't in there for hours," Ron muttered quietly as she passed them, causing Harry to grin wryly.

The small pond was pristine. Clear and warm from Hermione's earlier spells on it, it seemed to invite the two boys to jump in at once. And they did just that, leaving on their underwear for modesty, though how they were ever going to get completely clean without taking all of their clothes off wasn't discussed.

"Harry, you can swim in this part!" A floating Ron passed him in the middle of the pond, shooting water from his mouth into the air.

"We're not supposed to stay in long," Harry reminded him, but couldn't help laughing at his friend's antics.

"Oh come on, how is she even going to know that we were swimming instead of bathing?" Nevertheless, Harry saw him glance around as if the aforementioned witch had hidden magical surveillance on them at that very moment.

After a bit of splashing and a bout of water fights, they eventually bathed, the entire point of them coming out in the first place. Harry climbed out off the pond, and instead of moving to dry himself off and put on clean clothes, he laid back on a towel and stared up at the sky. How he wished for the millionth time that confusing Horcruxes, Death Eaters, a war against Voldemort, and all of the other calamities that had happened never even existed. How he wished that he could lay here and sleep, or maybe just stare up at the sky and let it all pass by, not even worrying about the Dark Mark appearing within its depths.

A red-haired, freckled face appeared in front of him, blocking his view. "Alright down there?"

Harry nodded automatically, the teasing not even fully registering in his mind. A drop of water from Ron's still wet hair fell on his nose. He grabbed the boy's arms as Ron moved to get up, holding him in place. This time, the next action wasn't spontaneous. They looked at each other for a brief but seemingly long moment before their lips met, gently and hesitantly, both of them in complete accordance with what they were doing and its possible consequences.

The kiss was slow, deep and long. Their hands ventured slowly over each other's chest, and then crossed back up to the other boy's neck. Harry found his fingers buried in Ron's hair as the kiss started again, feeling satisfaction in the simple act of requited desire.

When the kiss and touch session was over, they dressed in silence, glancing at each other briefly and shyly. The two were thinking the same thing, "What happens now?"

* * * * * * * *

Ron and Hermione were friendly again, their relationship slowly going back to the point where it had been at previously, before the former had walked out and kissed another boy. But that left Harry rather lost.

As Ron dived back into his girlfriend, Harry went in the other direction. Retreating from both of them, he obsessed over the Hallows. They were his comfort, his only companion in his time of need. Harry told himself that everything was for the better, that if Voldemort knew his attraction to Ron it would only be used against him. It was the same logic that had pushed Ginny away. Only this time, it was reserved for the person who truly needed it.

* * * * * * * *

And that was the way it stayed. Ron and Hermione growing ever closer each day, Harry catching the guilty looks that were something thrown his way and pushing them out of his mind completely, Harry's intense focus on the Hallows passing to his renewed focus on Voldemort and the Horcruxes, following Dumbledore's wishes and finally finding the last Horcrux, stepping through other's battles to face his own, almost dying (or perhaps being dead and coming back), killing the darkest wizard alive, finally and once and for all.

That night—or perhaps it was next morning, for no one had wanted to stop celebrating their joy—Harry was sprawled under his covers, his head throbbing from all of the events of the past two days, and his relief immense to finally have everything behind him. The door of his borrowed bedroom creaked open and someone came in, closing the door behind them so the light wouldn't shine in.

"Harry?" A small, hesitant, concerned voice that was easily recognizable after seven years of hearing it met his ears. "Are you alright? You-Know-Who didn't do something terrible to you did he, something that you haven't told us about?"

Harry guessed that Ron must have been concerned over the story that he had told both his best friends about what had happened between him and Voldemort. And the state that he had been in at the celebration, exhausted and haggard. He sat up, but felt far too tired to actually open his mouth and speak in what would be a meaningless conversation.

He beckoned and Ron came closer. Then he patted the bed and his best friend sat. Grabbing the boy's chin, he fixed his eyes on his, and Ron shook his head, shaking his hand loose in the process.

"Hermione," he said, but it sounded weak.

Harry gave an intense stare. The selfish part of him cared nothing about Hermione's feelings at that moment, especially as the night's festivities had been all about him and his accomplishments. He felt that he should get whatever he wanted.

He came closer.

"Harry..." But again the protest was weak.

Ron finally gave in, leaning into Harry's kiss, their lips pressed together gently but practiced, their body parts still remembering the evening that had happened so long ago. Ron's hand traveled down his lover's shirt, touching and caressing, feeling him do the same down his own back.

After more time, relaxing into the routine, they started to play. Buttons came loose. Kisses were planted everywhere. Hushed giggles erupted from their mouths that even they were surprised to hear. Their tongues touched, their lips brushed, their jeans rubbed. It became a game. Slightly tousling, slightly dominating, each trying to win and lose at the same time, to feel the pleasure and the punishment.

It wasn't until late that morning, or perhaps late that afternoon, when the parties and their afterparties had died down and left their occupants in a drunken stupor, that Ron finally snuck out of Harry's room.

* * * * * * * *

"Ron, I'm trying to talk to you!"

The boy looked up from his position of staring at the wall in what looked like a dazed state. Obviously his routine of nodding whenever he thought it appropriate hadn't worked so well.

"What?" he said, trying to avoid showing his impatience and be polite at the same time; he didn't succeed.

Hermione frowned at him as he continued the primping that he had been doing since she had arrived, only stopping when she had actually taken the time to order him to stop. He was trying to fix his hair, getting one strand to lay flat only to have it pop out of place again.

"Oh for heavens sakes, it's never going to look right!" she informed him, pulling his hands away from his hair. "What is the matter with you?"

For the first time in forty minutes, her boyfriend turned to face her. "What? I feel perfectly fine. Don't I look perfectly fine?" He returned to the mission again, examining his face another countless time for a sign of anything wrong.

She pulled him away from the mirror. "That's not what I meant. I mean," she paused, biting her lip, and finally decided to spit it out. "You've been acting so strange lately. And all this fixing yourself up when you're obviously going somewhere and refusing to tell me where it is, or what you're doing... You barely even listen to me anymore, and when we're around each other you always seem distracted." Indeed, she caught him glancing at his reflection in the mirror again.

Hermione took a deep breath and finally blurted out angrily, "Are you seeing someone else?"

The effect was instantaneous. Ron frowned, blinked, and moved his mouth as he sputtered words of nonsense. But finally he managed to return angrily, "Of course I'm not seeing anyone else! Are you mad?"

But as his ears turned beet red and he shifted in place, his body language said otherwise.

Hermione burst out crying and buried her face in her hands. "Oh Ron, so it is true!"

Her boyfriend stood there, rather at a loss for what to do next. "Hermione..." he said cautiously, preparing to tell her that there was no one else and it was a figment of her imagination. Or maybe that there was someone else who he didn't care about and would leave. He didn't know what to say really; he could never lie very well.

Before he could make any objection to her remark, the young witch had a wand pointed in his face.

"Get out," she said dangerously.

He backed away, incredulous. "But this is my house!"

She glowered at him and taking the hint, he ran for the door, just as she screamed, "Oppugno!"

* * * * * * * *

"She was crazy. Fuming mad, steam leaking out of her pores. Pointing her wand at me and yelling at me to get out of the house—my own house!"

Ron lowered his hands after his explanation, complete with vigorous hand gestures and an expressive tone. On his neck there were small peck marks, evidence of the spots where the conjured canaries had gotten to him before he could disapparate. Harry sat in front of him, a mug of tea in his hands and his posture bent over in a fit of very strong laughter.

"It's not that funny," his friend muttered darkly.

Harry shook his head. "It is."

His lover stared at him. "But she suspects us!"

"She doesn't suspect _us_," he was corrected. "She suspects you of having an affair and has no idea of who it's with. You weren't exactly subtle."

Ron frowned. "Still..."

Harry put down the mug of tea that he still hadn't managed to take a sip of yet. "We could just come out."

Ron gaped at him once more. "Come out? This is nothing more than a game to us. What's the point of coming out?"

Harry was silent a moment, before saying, "Well you can't have us both."

"I was doing just fine until she found out. We'll just have to find a way to sooth her fears."

"Do you even love her anymore? All you tell me is complaints and horror stories. Why are you even still together?"

The silence was enough of an answer.

"I thought so." The auror-to-be stood up from his chair. "You can stay here tonight, but I want an answer in the morning. Me or her."

As Harry walked away, he felt a stare on his back, probably accompanied by an open mouth and more sputtering of words.

* * * * * * * *

Harry was woken by a slight shaking. He bolted up, his hands immediately going to his wand and his glasses at the same time. Then he saw that it was the only other occupant of the house standing over his bed. He relaxed.

"Is this more than a game to you?"

Harry considered. "I'm not entirely sure. But if it is only a game, it's one that I love playing."

He met Ron's eyes, who then crawled over Harry, sliding into the other side of the bed.

"I don't know if I still love her—" a finger on his mouth shushed him.

"Tomorrow," he was ordered. And then as the finger trailed down the middle of his neck, and then his shirt, and finally his pants, the game began.

* * * * * * * *

The arrival of morning was made known by birds chirping, the sun shining brightly through the closed windows of the bedroom, and Harry's head resting on Ron's chest, the rest of his body thrown haphazardly in a diagonal position. All of that morning, through breakfast, the morning Daily Prophet, and a short game of wizard's chess, nothing was mentioned about the night before. In fact, Ron almost thought that Harry had forgotten about it, or maybe had even changed his mind about it altogether. After all, what would be so bad about sharing him with Hermione? He was wrong.

"Hermione owled me." They were the first words out of Harry's mouth after taking a spectacular beating from Ron in the game of chess they had just played.

The other boy's head rose slowly. "And...what did it say?"

"Nothing much," was the frustrating answer. "So what is your decision?"

Ron grimaced. No luck on the forgetting theory. "I'm not in love with you. And it all is simply a game to me. But you're right, I'm not in love with Hermione either." He paused, and then continued, speaking even slower. "But I do want a family, with a big house and lots of children. Hermione is willing to give me that."

He looked at Harry, his eyes pleading for him not to force this decision on him. The brown haired boy refused to meet his eyes, and after waiting for several drawn out minutes, he went on.

"I'm not sure who I should choose. But if I had to lose you or lose Hermione...I wouldn't want to lose you. You're—" he faltered for a second and then caught up with the train of thoughts that he wanted to say. "Being with Hermione just isn't the same."

There was a void in the conversation, as Harry studied the chessboard that he had successfully rearranged to the position that it had been in before Ron had started winning, and touched two spots on it, as if trying to mentally recount how he had gotten beaten. Finally he looked up.

"So you choose me?"

Ron nodded, the action feeling more like a death sentence than an affirmation.

A half smile of relief crossed his best friend's lips. "I thought that you would choose her."

A small smile crossed Ron's as well, suddenly feeling happy because Harry was. "I thought that I would too."

They looked at each other for a few moments before bursting out laughing. It felt like old times again, when they had made up with each other after a trivial fight, and when they remembered the strength of the bond of their friendship again. Only this time, it had added benefits.

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_**A/N**: I wrote this a while ago, but I can't believe that I forgot to upload it on here! Anyway, I hope that you enjoyed it._

-Paz


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